The Lady and the Hound
by manicprincessa
Summary: Sansa Stark became the Lady of Winterfell, ruling her huge kingdom with some old friends of her family. Her people praised her for being a great Lady and Defender of the North, but they thought she was too lonely and too serious for a young woman. Sansa wanted and gave the best for her people but she did not care about her own happiness anymore.
1. Chapter One

Chapter 1.

Sansa woke up from a dreamless sleep.

Finally, she thought, finally a day that does not start with the bloody pictures of my murdered parents and brothers. Even if I did not see all of them die with my own eyes, I heard the stories with too many details and after all I had seen, I could clearly imagine the rest and assemble the whole story.

She dreamt nothing, her brain was completely empty and clear. I wish all my nights could end up like this and I could have a little bliss and more freedom from my past, she added.

But she knew very well that she wanted too much.

Only six months had passed since everything ended and King's Landing was completely demolished, since the remaining Starks came together in Winterfell and chose their own path to follow: Jon went to the Wall, Arya left for the seas, Bran became the King of Westeros and the Seven Kingdoms.

As if it had been centuries ago and still all the memories were so fresh…

Sansa missed her sister and her brothers but deep inside her heart, she knew very well that she preferred being alone to being in their company – or anyone else's company.

She was not that naïve, happy little girl she used to be before travelling with her father and her sister Arya to King's Landing.

What a stupid little girl I was, she thought bitterly, my head was so full of romantic dreams of shining brave knights, wonderful balls and dinners, true love and sweet romances, all I could think of was beautiful clothes and fashionable hairstyles, roses, lemon cakes, silk, jewelleries, and Joffrey. What a selfish girl I was, she added, everything must have been centred around me and my dreams, and I did not appreciate my father and my little sister when I had the opportunity. I wish I had been a better daughter to my father and a better sister to Arya. I wish we had not fought so much over nothing.

Now she found herself busy with ruling over Winterfell, dealing with her land, her people and their everyday problems, trying to be the best Lady Stark she could ever be, trying to make their people happy and satisfied. When she had free time, she closed herself into the library and she was reading and studying the old books for hours. She was studying history, geography, everything she could learn about the soil, the nature, the animals and the human body. Samwell kept sending her the best books about these topics and some people said that she was going to be almost a clever master. Other people said that she was too serious and unhappy.

She was working hard to make up every hole in her education that she had missed when she had spent all her time on fashion and romances. Books became her best friends and she did her best to develop and improve to be the best Queen of the North, the best Mother and the best Defender of her people. At least now you could be proud of me, Father and Mother.

But was she happy? What or who made her happy? She bit her lip while she was combing her hair and thinking about happiness.

Happiness is just an overrated word, she thought, that does not belong to my world anymore. I feel content if I can be a good and true Queen of my North, it must give me pleasure and happiness because I have no chance for more. I have been married twice, I have suffered from men's brutality, dirty schemes and lies, and it was enough. I am unable to trust any men and their intentions, she added bitterly, and I soon will come to that point when I am able to believe that it is all right.

When she finished combing and preparing her long ginger hair, she dressed up and sat down to her writing table. She was about to start an interesting new book about herbs and plants. Samwell praised it enthusiastically in his last letter and he seemed to be more excited about her reading it as soon as possible.

Suddenly a strong knocking on the door was heard, and at the next moment the young Andrew entered, with his round face in the shades of bright red, breathing and panting so fast as if he had been running.

\- Lady Stark, they have caught the Hound!


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2.

Sansa felt as if she had been blinded and become deaf at the same moment.

They have caught the Hound!

She jumped up from her chair so quickly that it was pushed against the wall and gave a loud alarming sound. Sansa did not care about it. She picked up her skirt elegantly and gracefully as her mother and her septa had taught her and she hurried downstairs, out to the yard with such a speed that those two wonderful ladies would have never approved. Andrew started to run after her, not wondering about the reason of her excitement.

That was a really fantastic piece of news: the Hound has just been caught.

Sansa could not believe her ears, still she did not ask anything. She had to see with her own eyes what was waiting for her. Her feet were almost flying above the many stairs and landings, leading to the front gate, and even though her left side started to burn, she did not stop for a second.

The closer she got to the round yard, covered with pure fresh snow that had been falling slowly since early morning, the louder the noise and stirring became. She heard more and more voices, female, male and childish voices, everyone sounded so excited as if a dragon had arrived at Winterfell. All the people must have stopped their daily duties and run to gather to see the miracle.

Is it real, she wondered, is it really real? That he is here? At my dear home, at Winterfell? How come he returned? How come he was alive at all? They told me that he was dead. People were still talking about the Fall of King's Landing, about the many deaths, about the corpses of the Clegane Brothers. How their dead bodies were frozen into a deadly embrace, with Sandor Clegane lying at the top of his giantlike brother, Gregor. How their faces and bodies were bloody and broken, and the pieces of the Mountain's brain splattered the stone blocks around his swollen purple head.

She felt really sad about Sandor Clegane's death, she hoped that he had not suffered much, but she felt pure joy hearing what had happened to Gregor, because she knew that without him, there were one less monster left in the world.

It cannot be true, it cannot be true… she whispered while picking up her feet so quickly as if she had had to run on burning hot stones.

When Sansa entered the yard and finally saw the man, kneeling in the snow, looking around with those familiar dark eyes of his, burning in mad rage - her heart stopped beating and the air disappeared from her lungs.

It was him.

Sandor Clegane. The Hound. The bodyguard and the merciless killing machine of the late King Joffrey. The warrior who had murdered so many people on the battlefields, on the roads of Westeros, in the deserted villages, everywhere where he was commanded to kill. Sandor Clegane. The only man, who defended her from Joffrey's madness. The only man, who saved her from being raped after Princess Myrcella's leaving for Dorne. The only man, who wanted to help her escape from King's Landing and return to Winterfell to her mother, without any ulterior motives.

He looked still so huge and rough, even without his massive shining armour that he used to wear in the royal court, even bending above his knees, in the middle of her people, circling around him. He was wearing dark grey, almost black ragged clothes, a big thick coat, dirty trousers and such old boots that seemed to fall into pieces in any moment. Those spots on the fabric could have been the remains of blood, mud, food and dirt. His hands were chained behind his back and when Sansa stepped into the snow, he looked up and their eyes met. His long black hair looked so dirty and greasy falling on his wide shoulders, his dark brown eyes were filled with blazing fury and hatred, his sharp yellowish teeth became visible behind his parting lips, and the burnt half of his face shone blood red and frightening just as always.

In the middle of the almost lighting snow, at bright daylight, the remains of the fire, the sharply cut scars were even more visible and even more shockingly scary, as they contorted his features brutally. Most people did not dare to look into his face, but Sansa dared and did. She was watching even the tiniest piece of his face, all the scars, the burnt skin, his ears – one of them intact, the other one destroyed from the fire almost completely, looking like a crushed leaf of rotten lettuce as his thin hair, brushed aside, did not hide it. He must have lived and suffered so much, only the gods knew how he had been able to survive the fight with his brother and the fall from the top of the castle, still he was completely unbroken in his rage.

Sandor Clegane could not frighten her anymore. All she felt for the man was gratitude and deep pity but she was trying hard to conceal the latter one because she did not want to insult him. She owed him so much that possibly she would have never been able to pay back.

Before Sansa could have opened her mouth, Sandor Clegane spoke on a rasping tone that had always been a characteristic of him.

\- The little bird… You have grown a lot.

His lips did not smile, but in his dark eyes under the heavy eyebrows she seemed to notice that kind of tenderness that sometimes she had been able to discover when he had looked at her at Joffrey's court.

Ser Thomas, the tall, ginger-haired man, the strongest of her warriors, who was standing at Sandor's right side, slapped him hard on the neck.

\- She is Lady Stark for you, you damned beast, mind your tongue.

Sandor drew his neck in, then looked up at the man with such a murderous glance that would have terrified most people to death.

Sansa was trying hard to keep her temper. She always hated violence and she especially hated to see Sandor Clegane being hit by anyone.

\- Ser Thomas, would you be so kind to treat our guest with a little more kindness, please?

\- Is he our guest? – Ser Thomas's sound became unmanly thin from anger and a few red blotches turned up on his cheeks.

Sansa did not take her eyes off Sandor Clegane, who must have whispered some rude curses to Ser Thomas, because the redness disappeared quickly and he became rather pale. It was obvious that Ser Thomas was not afraid of anyone, especially not of a handcuffed man, but this was not the first time that the Hound was able to stir up some dread and anxiety around himself.

She walked closer to Sandor Clegane, smiling tenderly. She did not want to tower over him, reflecting any power above him, therefore she stopped three steps in front of him.

\- Ser Sandor…

He straightened his back and replied on a dark, steamy voice, boring his eyes deeper into hers. His words sounded like a sheer rebuke.

\- I am not a Ser…

Sansa's smile did not stop, even though she blushed softly. She remembered so well how he had always corrected people calling him "ser", keeping a great deal of disgust in his voice.

\- I am sorry, I did not mean to hurt you.

\- Women's brains work too slowly… - he groaned.

Ser Thomas lifted his hand up but before he could have slapped his prisoner again, he forced some manners on himself, noticing the warning in Sansa's glance.

\- You should put him into the prison, my lady.

Sansa shook her head. Sandor's wicked words hurt her a little but she decided not to show it. She looked at her people one by one. She felt their anger and frustration, she knew that they wanted to punish Sandor Clegane for his past actions, but she was terribly tired of the past, not only her own, but everyone else's as well. We must leave the past behind or we will have no future, she thought. She tried to convince them to show some mercy and to behave.

\- I do not want to put him into the prison. There are no charges against him, as far as I know.

\- We all know who he is, and that is enough. – that was Ser James, Ser Thomas's uncle, who hated the Lannisters and the Cleganes with all his heart, long before some Lannister-soldiers murdered his first wife and his twins, then set his home in fire.

Sansa did not allow anyone to rule over her.

\- And you all know that he defended my sister, Lady Arya and he defended me when I was in the court of the late King Joffrey.

\- That sick little bastard… - someone hissed.

\- The point is that Ser Clegane is… - Sansa lifted her voice up to be heard by everyone around.

\- I am not a ser… - Sandor spat again but Sansa ignored it. As if he was trying to make me angry and lose my head, she thought bitterly, and he does not care that I am his only friend here. If I were not here now, he would be already dead and cold.

\- The point is that Sandor Clegane is not our prisoner. Set him free, please. Right now.

She looked at Ser Thomas rather hard and he did not hesitate to set Sandor free from his chains, even though his face openly showed that he disagreed with Lady Stark's decision completely.

When Sandor Clegane stood up slowly, rubbing his wrists with an impatient groan, Sansa added:

\- And before he leaves Winterfell, he will be given everything a guest could wish for and deserve. Delicious food, a hot bath, a good sleep and clean, new clothes. His injuries must be cleaned and dressed.

\- Maybe he should need a new haircut too. – Ser Patrick, the youngest of her warriors, felt like commenting. He was famous for his witty sayings and funny jokes, but this time Sansa found no humour in his words.

Laughing and giggling was heard from every corner of the yard. Sansa looked around in a disapproving way while Sandor Clegane did not seem to care about that. He looked up at the dark grey sky and brushed his hair out of his scarred forehead.

\- I do not think that mocking someone suits to a ser, Ser Patrick.

\- Should I apologise, my lady? – Ser Patrick looked offended.

\- Fuck your apologises… - Sandor spat, without looking at him. He was watching Sansa now, almost curiously.

I am sure that he still sees the naïve little girl in me, that was how he had always seen me at King's Landing, and now he cannot imagine how strong-minded I can be, she thought.

\- I do not like vulgar words in my home – Sansa told him, looking into his eyes without any fear.

Sandor Clegane looked back at her with dark eyes and a much darker facial expression, then he rasped:

\- Forgive me, Lady Stark.

Sansa gave him a tender smile, then ordered in a firm voice that Sandor Clegane must be accompanied to the guest room in the northern wing where hot bath, clean clothes, hot spicy wine and a freshly roasted chicken with potatoes should be waiting for him.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter 3.

Ser Thomas was about to open his mouth, most probably to object her decision, but Sansa did not allow him to speak. She was tired of his resistance, although she did not want to tell him off in front of everyone again, therefore she chose her words carefully to be as clear about her intentions as possible.

\- The House of Stark owes Sandor Clegane eternal gratitude for defending two Stark ladies and that is why he will always be welcomed at Winterfell. The North remembers. – she took a deep breath. – When I visit the guest room in half an hour, I want to see Ser Sandor sitting in the bath tub or eating his chicken, with clean warm clothes on the bed and a welcoming fire at the fireplace. Ser Thomas, would you please come with me.

While she was walking away, up on the stairs leading to the Great Hall and into the Carpet Keep, where she intended to question her main warrior about the latest event, she heard Sandor Clegane laughing.

\- Daring little bird… I'd prefer the preceding one.

She wondered what made him so cheerful suddenly, and she was really astonished as she had never heard him laugh, then at the next moment she realised how ambiguous and clumsily chosen her words were: I want to see Ser Sandor sitting in the bath tub. As if she had expressed her wish to see him naked. She blushed a little, feeling ashamed of herself for the slip of the tongue, but she managed to keep her calmness and did not turn around to face the laughing man.

She had seen naked men many times, not only her two husbands, Tyrion Lannister and Ramsay Bolton, but unknown soldiers and noble men with low morals as well, that was why it was not scary for her anymore. She used to be a shy and naïve girl, who had blushed when she had seen mating dogs or servants, when she had heard lecherous comments, but this Sansa Stark had gone long ago forever. However, the thought of seeing his old defender, the Hound naked… it sounded rather inappropriate and shocking. She walked with a quicker speed and soon she left his laughter behind.

In the Carpet Keep, where the stone walls were decorated with beautifully ornamented Valyrian carpets, she sat into her armchair close to the fireplace and looked at Ser Thomas curiously.

\- Ser Thomas, I am really curious to know how you managed to catch Sandor Clegane? Tell me everything about it.

Ser Thomas looked a little moody after being ticked off in front of so many people but he tried not to show how hurt he was. He could not understand his Queen, Lady Stark and he knew that it was his task to fight for her and obey to her in every circumstance, without questioning, but this time, in the Hound's case, it seemed to be much harder than before.

\- My lady, I was just walking on the market when I overheard a conversation between two young lads. They were talking about a mysterious man whom they saw coming out of the woods last evening. I did not care about it until one of them mentioned how badly burnt the half of the man's face had been. I was sure that it must have been the Hound. So I called some of my men and we hurried into the forest. We did not have to look for him long because he was just lying near the river, sleeping.

\- Sleeping? And didn't he hear you coming? – Sansa was really surprised and she could not believe that such a dangerous man, searched by so many people all over Westeros, was just simply sleeping in front of anyone's eyes at daylight as if he had been on a lovely picnic.

\- He did, that was obvious – Ser Thomas explained a little embarrassed. - He jumped up immediately, when we got about twenty metres close to him, probably he was not sleeping at all. There were a little fight but we could get him quickly.

Sansa found it really strange as well that Sandor Clegane could have been captured so easily. She had seen him fighting many times and she knew very well how wildly and smartly he had always fought. He was a true warrior, brave, merciless, fast and brutal. She had seen once how five people had attacked him and he had defeated them within a minute using only his right arm and his sword. No wonder that the late Queen Cersei had chosen him to be her son's bodyguard. If he had not run away into the woods after the Blackwater Battle, she thought, he possibly would have become King Tommen's bodyguard as well.

Sansa tried hard to hide her disbelief while keeping on making her questions. This uncommonly carelessness and surprising mercy towards his enemies were not the characteristics Sandor Clegane was always famous for. He must have some secret plans, she suspected, but what could these plans be? What was the reason behind his unusual and mysterious behaviour?

\- How many people did you take with yourself?

\- We were ten, my lady.

\- All skilled and experienced warriors?

Ser Thomas nodded his assent to express his concord.

\- Of course, my lady. I chose to bring my best fellows because Clegane has always been one of the most dangerous men.

You are perfectly right, Sansa thought, that is why I cannot comprehend how you could have survived this adventure so easily. She had a really hard time to preserve the emotionless expression on her face.

\- Was anyone injured?

Ser Thomas allowed himself a little smile.

\- Nothing serious, just a few scratches.

The confusion was clearly seen on her face now.

Ten people were nothing for the Hound, just a bunch of little mice, Sansa thought. And for the first time, he did not fight as fierce as he used to if her men got away this adventure unscathed, only with small injuries. The Sandor Clegane whom Ser Thomas talked about was not the one she had known for a long time.

She remembered how Sandor had almost cut someone into half with his huge sword, she heard so many stories about his brutality and his amazing physical strength, and she remembered how she had been told how he had cursed leaving the castle at the Blackwater Battle to meet King Stannis's army: "Any man dies with a clean sword, I'll rape his fucking corpse!" She still saw that kind of madness and rage in his eyes – but where were these madness and rage when her men tried to capture him? Something was wrong with this story, she felt.

\- So you caught him and put him into chains. Did he say anything?

Ser Thomas pulled faces.

\- Only vulgar things. Nothing that you should hear.

Sansa felt that she heard enough. She let Ser Thomas go and she stayed in the armchair thinking.

Why did Sandor Clegane come to Winterfell? Why didn't he defend himself against her men as he used to?

Were there some kind of nasty schemes in the background? That could be the case only, she thought, if he were the man of some new masters, but who could it be? There was a kind of calmness and silence all over Westeros now, the seven kingdoms were working hard to restore themselves and life had just settled back into the old routine. Or was it only an illusion? Is someone still trying to grab the Iron Throne, even now, that her brother, King Brandon is sitting on it? Is that person using Sandor Clegane for a secret plan? Who could it be when every house seemed to be satisfied with the present situation and was happy to support Bran?

I must find it out as soon as possible, she decided. I declared him as my guest because I will always owe him so much gratitude for Arya and for myself, but if he means a danger to Winterfell and to my people, and of course to Bran, he must pay for that dearly and he will leave the North in pieces. She also decided to check on him whether he was given everything she had requested.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter 4.

Sandor Clegane was enjoying his hot bath.

He did not even remember when was the last time when hot water and soap touched his skin. Maybe, he thought, it was still here, at this damned cold Winterfell, before the battle against the Dead started, when everyone in Westeros joined their forces to defeat our biggest enemy in history. As if it all had been centuries ago…

It was so comfortable, lying in the water, in the middle of a warm room, lit by a cheerfully cracking fire and a dozen candles, doing nothing but relaxing, feeling nothing but amazing warmness around his body, like a huge, warm blanket. Finally he did not have to worry about anything. There was no bone-breaking cold, no blade-sharp wind, there were no enemies around him. He knew that no one would visit or disturb him except Lady Stark. No one wants to look at me or to talk to me, he thought, everyone is still scared of me and they all hate me and my being here. To be honest, he did not care about their feelings or thoughts, just as no one cared about him and whether he was alive or not.

He was terribly exhausted – not only physically, but mentally as well. He did need some rest so badly, some time to recover and regain his strength, but he would have never allowed anyone to know about that. He did not trust anyone, he never had. Tough months were standing behind him and for the first time he felt his own age deeply in his bones and flesh. He was tired of fighting but that was the only thing he was competent in and that he enjoyed most of all. He was never afraid of anyone or anything – except fire, even though since he returned to life, even his fear from the flames became much smaller. He felt he could sleep forever.

He had no intentions to come to Winterfell. Things had just happened.

That afternoon he walked away from the hut and he followed the route where his feet took him. He did not think about it. One day he found a stray horse eating the grass sleepily and when the horse was found dead one morning, he continued his journey on foot again. He had nothing but his clothes, his sword and his eternal anger. When he found some fruit or when he could catch an animal, he ate. When he found a brook or a river, he drank. When he was about to meet people, he did his best to avoid them and pretended to be invisible.

When he was surrounded by a bunch of armed people on the riverbank, he had no idea where exactly he was, but those men were so eager to inform him immediately that they belonged to Lady Stark's warriors and he was on the territory of the Northern Kingdom. Sandor had to smile hearing their proud words: so he reached the little bird's empire. He fought with all her warriors but he did not injure them seriously. He did not want to kill them – what he wanted was to meet Lady Stark. Maybe it was something that he had always wanted, he smirked. He had not seen her since he had left Winterfell before the Fall of King's Landing.

When Sansa Stark knocked on the door politely, then entered the guest room, greeting him in her elegant style, Sandor Clegane was still lying in the steaming hot bath tub, with his wild eyes closed.

His muscular arms, covered with thick hair, were resting on the rims of the tub and she could see an ugly blood-red scar running across his broad hairless chest above his heart. It looked so freshly cut, but as she stepped a little closer, Sansa could realise that it must have been at least a few months old. The water and the steam flying above it glued his long dark brown hair to his skull and his shoulders, and small drops of water were beaming on his forehead.

The servants had done a great job: the fireplace and the bath made the room comfortably warm, the deliciously prepared dishes were waiting on the table, smelling so fine, and the complete clean and new pieces clothing had already arrived, piled on the chair next to the bed.

\- Shall I stand up, Lady Stark? – Sandor Clegane smirked at Sansa, watching her with his left eye.

Sansa's face remained expressionless.

\- Please, Ser, you do not have to move. Enjoy your bath as long as you can.

He could not wipe that naughty smirk off his face and out of his voice.

\- It seems to me that you do want something from me. Do you want to watch me while I am having my bath? Peeling the dirt and the mud off my skin? Is that so interesting for you?

Sansa still did not blush although she felt rather uncomfortable. She wanted to question him and not to be questioned by him.

\- My intentions are other kind. May I ask you some questions?

Sandor shrugged and looked at her with both of his eyes open.

\- Why the hell not?

She tried to ignore his complete boredom and rude style.

\- I would like to know why you came here. Do you have any special plans or tasks to do?

\- I didn't come to you, I was just caught by your brave warriors.

\- My warriors are to defend my people in my land. What were you looking for near Winterfell?

Sandor's face showed nothing but disinterest, however a little naughty smirk was lurking in the corner of his mouth.

\- I just happened to be there.

\- Quite a distance from King's Landing.

\- Quite a distance and quite a change of surroundings.

Sansa grew tired of his talking beside the point and not replying to her questions honestly, but she didn't want to be insistent.

\- Did you fancy a little riding in the north?

Sandor Clegane's grin became more alarming as he leaned forward in the tub and the light fell on the burnt half of his face and his mouth, contorted and surrounded by scars.

\- Your tongue has become much sharper than your little wicked sister. What happened to the sweet little bird I knew in King's Landing?

\- To tell the truth, I would have liked to ask about that as well, Ser. – Sansa did not even blink while returning his deep glance. - What happened to you in King's Landing? A lot of stories have been going around Westeros that you had fought with your brother and both of you had fallen into the depth, into the fire.

\- Would you be happier if I were dead? – he rasped and leaned back into a lying position again. There was a little change of mood on his face and a flash in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it appeared.

\- I did not say that. – she sounded offended a little. He ignores my question or attacks me simply, she thought with a growing impatience, that will lead nowhere I would like to go.

\- Just reply. – Sandor demanded with a command in his voice.

Sansa did not let him scare her.

\- You know very well how grateful I am for you. Why should I be rejoicing at the news of your death?

Sandor shrugged negligently.

\- Who knows? I have no idea. Women can have such a cruel heart. Even the young ones.

She did not know whom he was hinting at, and she was not really interested, but she wanted to make him tell his story.

\- Be honest with me, please. How could you survive such a horrible fight and fall?

\- I am always honest with you. – he sat up, replying on a spiteful voice and his long fingers were grabbing the rim of the tub so hard that his skin looked white above his bones. Sansa felt how much he was annoyed by her, but she was completely sure that he would have never attacked her physically, even though based on his eyes and expression, he seemed to be about to jump out of the tub and strangle her. - A dog never tells lies. I have told you that so many times.

\- Then please, tell me…

Sandor Clegane did not move, did not even seem to breathe, still his deep voice sounded more frightening now than before.

\- Go out of here, Lady Stark. I am tired of this conversation.

Sansa knew that she had to go. She was disappointed and a little annoyed as well, but she did not want to push him further.

\- I am sorry for the inconvenience of my questions. Goodbye – she turned around quickly, reached for the doorknob, opened it quickly and stepped out of the room as fast as possible.

While she was leaving the room, Sansa was almost sure that she heard Sandor Clegane rasp "fuck your regret, little bird".

One thing Sansa was perfectly sure was that Sandor Clegane had been travelling to the North not because of the beautiful winter scenery or for fun.

Everyone is afraid of him or hates him, she thought, no one wants him near their homes because of his past. His past is his burden just as my past is my own burden. He is not that young fighter anymore, he is nothing but a battered old warrior with an ill fame and an much more ill-famed brother. Maybe he looks for a peaceful place to live his last years even though his anger and rage spoil every chance for that. He came to Winterfell… why? She thought that he was much prouder than to ask for help and support for his past service. But maybe his pride was defeated by hunger and fatigue by now, she wondered. She wanted to help him, especially for all the good things he had given to her and to Arya.

The other possibility, that Sandor arrived to fulfil some horrible schemes for someone in a higher rank to obtain Winterfell or the Iron Throne, sounded rather terrifying to her and she hoped that it was not the case. Somehow she did not want to be disappointed in him, after all his good deeds for the Stark-girls. However, it was strange and fairly obvious that he was concealing something from her and he did not want to reply the two most important questions she had towards him.

There is something that he does not want to tell me, she thought shaking a little inside, and no matter how hard it will be but I must find it out. Will the fighting never end?

She told Andrew to take care of Sandor and to make sure that he would be given everything he wanted to, whether it was food, wine or warm blankets. Then she decided to continue her day as if nothing special had happened. Her people and her books were waiting for her, and she also wanted to visit some sick people in the nearby villages. She had things to do: she was the Lady of Winterfell.


	5. Chapter Five

Chapter 5.

Sansa had a busy morning and afternoon.

After leaving Sandor alone, she met some landowners and peasants, listened to their complaints and problems carefully, trying to find a solution for each of them. It was one of her regular tasks as the Lady of Winterfell and it often covered a whole morning.

After the row of applicants disappeared, she had a delicious though modest lunch alone (while Sandor Clegane was said to be snoring loudly in the guest room). Later she rode out to visit two families a few miles away to bring them some medicine some of their members needed. Only Ser Thomas accompanied her though she would have preferred going alone. She tried to convince the families to move to Winterfell for safety reasons but these simple people insisted on staying in their old homes they and their ancestors used to live for centuries.

It was already dark when Sansa and Ser Thomas returned to the castle. She felt quite exhausted, mentally and physically as well.

Andrew ran to her holding a torch while one of the Mullen boys led her horse back to the stables to take care of her. He looked really embarrassed.

\- Lady Stark.

Sansa was not tired enough not to notice his embarrassment.

\- What's wrong, Andrew?

The young tried to deny and shook his head.

\- There is nothing wrong, my lady.

Sansa did not feel like solving puzzles. She was looking at him with more intensity.

\- Did anything happen while I was away?

She did not want to hear any bad news for the night. All she wanted was to have a delicious dinner, a lovely bath, then a good night's sleep. Tomorrow may be easier, she thought, but who knows what is waiting for me? I need my strength for each day.

Andrew shook his head again.

\- Nothing special. It is just the Hound wants to talk to you.

He wants to talk to me, she thought with a little bitterness, but about what and why? He had been commanded to obey for such a long time and now he thinks that he can give orders to me, only because I am younger than him? It did not suit him, she added quickly, he was always polite to me, rude, but polite.

\- Where?

\- In the guest room. He has not left it since morning.

Sansa wondered if Clegane had been really sleeping during the whole day or perhaps he was reading something – in the corner there was a small bookcase standing, offering about thirty books of old heroic songs and folk tales that she used to love reading. Not his cup of tea, she thought with a little smile, but this smile disappeared when another idea came into her mind. What if, she wondered, he was spending his day plotting something against me, against Winterfell or my little brother?

\- I am going.

When Sansa entered the guest room, Sandor Clegane was sitting at the table, drinking wine. He was wearing his new clothes, a dark grey, long-sleeved tunic with trousers, and a pair of strong boots. It was comfortably warm inside, the fire was cracking joyfully.

Sandor stood up while sweeping his eyes around the room. His move was a kind of courtesy, although his rasping voice sounded like mockery.

\- I like this place.

Sansa gave him one of her kindest smiles.

\- I am really glad to hear about that, Ser Sandor. Did Master Wolkan visit and examine you?

Sandor mumbled with a grin.

\- Yeah, there was a grouchy old man touching me all over and treating my wrists. He is talking too much.

\- I am deeply sorry if he gave you any trouble, my lord. – the irony could be felt clearly in her voice.

Sandor frowned.

\- I am not a lord, you know that. But this is not the reason why I wanted to talk to you.

Sansa sat down gracefully opposite her guest at the other side of the table, and at the next moment Sandor sat down as well.

\- What is the reason if I am allowed to know? Maybe you would like to stay for a longer time?

\- Maybe. I don't know. – he shrugged. – I want to see more about this place before I decide.

\- If you stay, you could help us rebuild Winterfell. Since the Battle against the Dead, the damages have not been repaired completely yet. There are still a lot to do.

Sparks seemed to flash in his eyes.

\- How could I help you, Lady Stark? Should I bleed for you again?

\- No, I do not expect such sacrifice and I do not need it at all. Warriors are not required now. I need helping hands. My people are hungry and cold, they need houses and food. Some parts of Winterfell are still in ruins. Do you want to help me with this?

Sandor's face darkened a little as he was replying and his bushy brows seemed to cover his eyes.

\- I am not a peasant. I won't grow wheat and I won't play with stones.

Sansa felt that his pride was hurt, even though she did not intend to hurt him.

\- I need a helping hand around the castle and on the fields much more than a fighting hand with a sword.

Sandor did not give an answer but his long fingers were drumming on the table impatiently.

Sansa was waiting for a reply but when it did not come, she decided to express her request for the last time. She really wanted him to stay – she needed a great warrior like him and she needed to unravel of the secret of his being at Winterfell.

\- I just need your help. I know that theoretically you are not a ser, still you always behaved and acted as one towards me when I was weak and foolish. Please help me.

Sandor growled.

\- Okay, I'll give it a try. I will do my best as long as I feel good here.

Sansa smiled at him tenderly, trying to hide her joy over his decision. If you can play and keep your secrets, Ser Sandor, she thought, then I am also allowed to play.

\- You can stay as long as you want to. I told you that you are my guest and I mean it. If you give me a helping hand, I would be even more grateful than before. I cannot pay you with much gold…

\- I don't need any fu… - he rasped.

Sansa stopped him before he could finish his vulgar sentence.

\- I know that you have never worked for gold.

Sandor smirked at her with a sarcastic smile.

\- Really? Do you think I have ever done anything for pure love for humans?

\- I don't know but I think you have…

\- Do you think I saved you from the mob in King's Landing for Joffrey's request?

Sansa felt her skin frozen when she remembered those horrible scenes that used to cause her so many nightmares through weeks. Sometimes she even woke up in the middle of the night, reliving those frightening moments of her life again.

\- For Joffrey's request? – she shook her head a little – I am sure it was not his idea. Lord Tyrion, he was the one who seemed to care about me. But would you be so kind to let this topic go, please? I do not want to remember that afternoon.

Sandor did not apologise for bringing the memories up, but he replied slowly on his rasping voice.

\- I am sure about that.

He was watching Sansa who didn't return his curious glance.

She was looking into the fire, lost among the flames and her reminiscences about that day.

Lord Tyrion, she thought, he really cared about me, and I know that you cared about me, too, Ser Sandor. You will never admit it and I don't even need your admitting it. The way you looked at me those days when I was living in King's Landing was rather frightening for me but now I know the meaning of your eyes. You cared about me that was why you always tried to defend me from Joffrey's madness. Not always, she corrected herself, but rather many times. More times than anyone else.

Suddenly Sansa looked back at Sandor.

\- Would you fancy having a look at the southern wall tomorrow? It is being repaired. I guess your help would be really appreciated considering that the number of our strongest men has decreased since the latest wars.

Sandor's eyes flashed for a moment.

\- Sure, Lady Stark, as you please.

Sansa was grateful that he did not insist on keeping talking about the past events they had shared. She waited a long minute wondering whether he had anything else to say but as he remained silent, she stood up, made a little curtsey, said goodbye and left.

He did not join her at the dining hall but before she started her own dinner, she made sure that he would receive the same delicious meals or anything else he would wish for.


	6. Chapter Six

Chapter 6.

Sandor Clegane kept his promise.

It is one of the things that one must admire in him, Sansa thought while she was riding beside him, that he always stays true to his words and promises. He has always been terribly honest and he has never thought about choosing his words carefully to avoid the punishment.

Next morning Sandor woke up early, opened the window to drop a curse on the cold Northern weather, had a quick wash, got dressed (although he did not comb his hair as he never bothered about his hairstyle) and he was waiting in front of the dining hall patiently, without moving his body an inch, when Sansa arrived to have breakfast.

She was just a little surprised to see him so early in the morning because she thought he would sleep longer, and for a moment she wondered how long he may have been standing beside the door.

\- Good morning, Ser Sandor.

He ignored her calling ser, even though in his dark eyes a small flash of light showed that he heard it clearly and he did not like it.

\- Good morning, Lady Stark.

\- I am really glad to see you in the dining hall to join my breakfast. – her voice and her words expressed honest joy, despite Andrew's face, who cannot hide his displeasure to see his lady in such a - in his opinion - disgraceful company. - I hope that you will find the modest meals of Winterfell delicious enough.

Sandor raised his right eyebrow, stepping closer to her, while noticing but completely ignoring Andrew's discontentment.

\- They do not seem so modest when you spend months riding on the roads of Westeros and sleeping rough under the night sky.

Sansa gave him one of her loveliest, soothing smiles and showed him the way to the table.

\- You are completely right. If I remember well, you do not feel like drinking water, that is why I asked Thomas to bring some good old wine from the cellar.

Sandor smirked at her.

\- That is really thoughtful of you, Lady Stark. Such a generous and caring woman is hard to find these days. Your mother would be really proud of you.

Sansa was not sure if he meant these words ironic or not, so she chose to have her breakfast instead of giving any reactions.

Sandor did not want to talk either and he seemed to have rather a huge appetite, drinking a whole jug of wine accompanied by a big roasted chicken, two handful of baked potatoes and vegetables, and two bowls of porridge. Sansa wondered what he would eat for lunch, after long hours of physical work, if his breakfast must have been so abundant. She could hide her surprise, however, not everyone was so smart – Andrew was staring at Sandor until he looked deeply into his eyes and rasped with a grin:

\- Stop staring at me, boy, or I will carve your eyes out and push them into a place where the moonshine cannot enter.

Andrew's face turned blood red, his body seemed to be frozen immediately and he didn't even dare to breathe, while Sansa felt partly annoyed and partly amused. Sandor and his vulgar remarks, how could I have forgotten about them, she thought, although she was not angry with him at all. She felt more annoyance towards Andrew who seemed to have forgotten about good manners and not staring at people.

\- Andrew, go and find Mrs Watson. – she ordered in a soft voice, accompanied by a soft smile - It will be a lovely sunny day and you should put out the blankets for fresh air.

Andrew was happy to have a reason to disappear from the dining hall as quickly as possible.

\- Yes, Lady Stark.

\- He should have stayed. – Sandor said with a little smirk before tasting the second bowl of porridge.

\- I don't want him to annoy you more. – Sansa replied, smiling softly while taking the last spoonful of porridge into her mouth.

Sandor's glimpse on her looked dark, but not threatening.

\- A real lady of her empire, that is what you are, little bird.

Sansa didn't give an answer this time and the conversation stopped again.

She still felt a little uncomfortable when Sandor called her "little bird" because it reminded her of his tender emotions towards her when they both lived in King's Landing. She had been just a foolish little girl at those times, but since then sometimes she recalled her memories of him and now she could realise much better that he had had a special love for her. She wondered if he still felt that way for her although now he could have fewer possibilities to show his care and tenderness. She was not that weak, foolishly romantic little girl anymore, she did not need his protection from Joffrey, Queen Cersei or anyone who used to hurt her. Actually she did not need anyone's protection. She was the Lady of Winterfell, with her own power and with her own people, brave warriors and brave pheasants. She forced to push her thoughts of him and his emotions away.

Sandor didn't insist on continuing the topic or bringing up memories, he was too busy eating and drinking as much as possible.

After breakfast, they visited the southern wall of Winterfell that seemed to be a pile of miserable ruins and burnt stone blocks. Two dozen muscular people were working around it, carrying and carving stones, trying to rebuild that part of the wall. None of them looked as strong as Sandor himself who was watching them scornfully.

\- How long have they been doing this job?

\- Four months.

\- What a bunch of ham-fisted losers!

Sansa was careful not to sound ironic, though she was sure that her sharp glance on him didn't miss the target.

\- Then would you be so kind, ser, to show them how it should be done properly?

Sandor looked at her deeply then murmured something.

\- I need wine. Lots of wine.

\- Wine? – her voice sounded surprised.

\- A worker must drink. Drink and eat. So wine and chicken.

You have just filled your huge belly, she almost spoke, but she knew how unpolite these words would have sounded.

\- As you please, ser.

Sandor seemed to ignore her calling him ser in spite of all his previous objections. Let her enjoy it, he thought, I have more important tasks to do.

From that day he commanded the people as if he were the leader and for her astonishment they all obeyed him immediately. Considering his terrible fame and his well-formed muscles, it is not such a big surprise, she thought, especially that he always works together with them, not only giving out orders or just relaxing in the background. She admired his amazing sense of winning her people, even though he never forgot to use a rather vulgar language when someone failed to do their job as he wanted them to do.

As days passed by, she more and more often rode to the wall to see Sandor. First she just wanted to control him, to see how hard he was actually working, to check how well and how quickly the wall was being repaired and how he was treating other people. She stayed for a few minutes, then she left. Most of the times they did not even exchange a word, even though Sandor always noticed her and greeted her with a short bow of his head before continuing to work.

Later she realised that she wanted to see him – not exactly how and what he was doing – him only. She was always wondering about his motives of being in Winterfell.

Sandor seemed to be enjoying his time there, feeling and looking good, never complaining about the cold weather or the frozen dish the other people had to warm up again at the fire. He never warmed up his food and he never walked close to the fire. No one talked about it, even though they gave a suspicious look at him. It was still unknown for most people why he was so scared to be close to the fire – everyone thought the reason was an old encounter with the flames on the battlefield that burnt the whole right side of his face.

He worked hard as if he were enjoying his work. He did not make friends with her people, he did not fight with anyone, he showed a basic courtesy and nothing more, and if he lost his patience because of someone or something, he tried to calm down as fast as possible although he did not apologise for rudeness.

Sansa heard what her people were talking about him. The Hound, they said, has changed. They did not trust him as much as she did, but they were less afraid of him as they used to be.

One day one of the older men, Christian Bruce, who had lost his two sons during a pillaging and killing, committed by some henchmen of the Lannisters, offered Sandor an apple and he even thanked for it, before biting into its flesh. Two days later Sandor told Sansa that he wanted to ask for a day off. Sansa allowed him to do that without asking for the reason, and by lunch time she was told that he had gone to help Christian Bruce repair the roof of his old family home.

The old man was a true warrior at the battlefield but he was afraid of heights terribly. He was rather ashamed of that therefore he never told anyone that his roof had collapsed a few days earlier and he would be unable to repair it alone. He had no neighbours or family members left, no one could have had the slightest idea about the accident, he was too proud to ask for help and he tried not to show how much he was freezing during the nights. He knew he was behaving foolishly but his pride proved to be stronger than his physical needs.

However, Sandor noticed the signs of the chilblain on the man's hands and he suspected immediately what had happened. He never mentioned his reason of staying away to Sansa, he simply told her about leaving for a day. He just turned up in front of Bruce's house next morning, waited for him to wake up and go out of the house, greeted him with a "You stupid old fart, what have you imagined? Do you want to die like a stupid animal?" and asked if Bruce had a ladder, a hammer and some nails. The following morning he continued his work at the wall as if nothing had happened and he didn't even look at Bruce again.

Sansa was wondering why Sandor had come to Winterfell and how come he had become so generous to help a man who was his enemy. If now there were a war between The North and the Lannisters, they would be facing each other, ready to kill each other, she thought, so what is going on with him?


	7. Chapter Seven

Chapter 7.

Days and weeks passed. Sandor Clegane remained in Winterfell, working hard, building and repairing walls inside and outside the castle, also taking his part in the night watch regularly, still Sansa could not get closer to his motives.

She was not the only one who was watching him closely – Ser Thomas and his men did the same, without being asked to. At least one of them was always near him, watching and listening, but none of them was able to find anything against Sandor. He looked like the same rough and unkempt warrior as he had looked like in King's Landing, he spoke rudely and often used vulgar expressions when he felt like talking that way just as he used to when he was Joffrey's bodyguard. His social and table manners reminded Sansa of the man she used to know in King Joffrey's court who had acted as he had felt like and who had never cared about other people's opinion. Sandor Clegane didn't seem to change – except that he hadn't killed anyone since he arrived at Winterfell.

\- Have you found anything strange? – Sansa asked Ser Thomas one day while they were having their usual conversation in the library. There was the place where they always discussed the matters and problems of the North Empire, besides some spicy wine and some fresh-baked bread.

He shook his head.

\- No really. Except that he doesn't meet women.

Sansa didn't understand what he meant and looked at him curiously. Why should he meet any women, she thought, when he keeps on working the whole day and there haven't been any festivals for a long time? She remembered how much she used to love those wonderful festival during the summer time where everyone was having fun, dancing, making and listening to music, eating and drinking from dawn to the next daybreak. It seems to me so long ago, she thought, when my father ruled the North and we had summer and we had reasons to celebrate. Maybe we should celebrate again, she kept on wondering, as we finally have peace and a great, rightful king and people deserve to have a good time.

\- What do you mean by that?

Ser Thomas seemed to be rather embarrassed and a little red blotch appeared on both of his cheeks. It is not a topic I should discuss with a lady, especially not with the Lady of Winterfell, he thought a little bitterly.

\- You know, my lady, sometimes a man possesses some special… needs that only a woman could satisfy…

Now everything was clear for Sansa.

\- Ah, you mean that. Maybe he does it in a very private way.

She didn't become embarrassed by the topic of sex. Should she after what she had had to endure from men in the past and what she had seen and experienced during the horrible rule of Queen Cercei and King Joffrey? What was actually embarrassing for her is to realise what a soothing feeling it caused inside her to hear that Sandor doesn't go to prostitutes and doesn't fancy any women. The reason behind that feeling was something that Sansa now pushed aside forcefully.

\- I don't think so he could do that. – Ser Thomas said firmly. - He is always being watched, even when he goes to sleep, someone of us checks on him. No one enters his room being noticed and he cannot leave his room being noticed either.

\- Well, until he behaves himself well and if he doesn't do anything against Winterfell or against my little brother, I think it is not our business what he does or doesn't do in secret. Anyway, thank you for letting me know about it.

Sansa let the topic and Ser Thomas leave the room.

She was starting to believe that the Hound had come to Winterfell only to settle down and find some peace, however, she found it a little strange that he didn't have any relationships with women. At King's Landing there had been stories about him visiting the brothel and paying a double price to get a woman for a quarter of an hour who would be able to tolerate his burnt cheek and his rude manners without any complaints. People had been laughing while telling these stories behind his back but in the end they had had to admit that "even the Hound got his girl" and that he hadn't had to force anyone to have sex with him. Maybe he became tired of being stared at and of paying for love, she thought.

An hour later Sansa rode to the construction site to make her routine check-up. Sandor was working hard, she could see it clearly, he didn't seem to be tense or furious and he even gave her a rather strange smile when he noticed her, but he turned away immediately and returned to his work of breaking stones. His hair was unkempt, he had taken his thick coat off and was working in a simple shirt that was stained by his sweat. He seems to get already used to the cold, she thought with a little smile.

Suddenly Christian Bruce appeared next to her horse.

\- Don't worry, Lady Stark. Clegane works harder than any of us. If I didn't know him, I would believe that Winterfell is important for him and he wants to have it safe and sound as soon as possible. – he said watching Sandor.

Sansa didn't reply.

Maybe he is planning his retirement and he thinks that this is the safest place for him, she wondered, he had saved Arya and me after all. He knows that we own him and even though he doesn't say it openly, he is expecting something to hold on in his older years. She knew that he was eighteen years older than her and men at his age – and especially after such an amount of fights and wars he had done and survived – were mainly dead or retired from warfare. No matter how tough he is or he pretends to be, she smiled, he feels deep inside that his time may have come for him to retire.

Two days later, after dinner, Sansa walked to the Godswood. It was not that icy cold that could almost break bones but she chose her thickest fur coat and boots for the visit. She wanted to be alone and to pray a little without being disturbed. She really liked being among her people, watching Winterfell filled with noisy life, happy laughs and cheerful chattering again, as it used to be in her father's time, but sometimes she loved being alone, only with her own thoughts and problems. She didn't pray every day but when she prayed in Godswood, she felt that it was real and the gods did hear her whispers, wishes and gratitude.

She had a favourite place, right under the heart-tree, where her father used to pray and think. The roots of the tree broke the ground on the side where it was the closest to the lovely pond and one of the thick roots was comfortable enough to sit on, even for hours. There was always complete silence around, even the birds seemed to sing on a softer voice as if they had felt that was a sacred place.

After saying her evening prayers, she stayed motionless. She was leaning against the thick strong trunk of the tree and she could feel the power of it on her skin. She was listening to the wind blowing around her face and finally she felt some inner peace. She knew herself and she knew that in spite of showing herself always calm to the world, she was worried and anxious inside as if she had been expecting something bad to come. She had seen too many horrible things within such a short time and somehow she couldn't believe that the bad times were maybe over.

She was watching the pond with its frozen mirror-like surface and she wondered when she would see swans on it again. There were a couple of snow white swans visiting the pond every summer, spending months there, but after her father had been murdered, they had left and never returned.

Suddenly Sansa felt as if she hadn't been alone. She didn't see or hear anything even though she had to admit that sometimes she could be completely lost in her thoughts and those times she seemed to be almost deaf and blind. She looked up and saw Sandor Clegane standing beside her, watching her intently.

\- Did I frighten you, little bird?

Sansa was actually frightened – not because of his presence, but because of his ability of remaining invisible.

\- How could you come here so silently? I didn't even hear you. – her voice didn't sound so confident now as it did most of the times.

Sandor laughed roughly.

\- What kind of damned soldier would I be if I couldn't come close to anyone without being heard?

Hearing his reply, she thought: so this is how he can simply leave his room and meet women if he feels like, without being noticed. To ignore the disturbing possibility, she made another question quickly.

\- You are right, but may I know what you are looking for here, Ser Sandor?

He looked around the trees and his eyes stopped on the pond. His glance looked so superficial but Sansa was sure that his mind was kind of taking pictures of the scene.

\- I was just walking here. Anyway I wanted to have a look at this place.

\- You are welcome here as well.

Now he looked at her with a curious glimpse.

\- Why do you like being here?

Sansa smiled softly while replying.

\- My father loved spending time here. I think it was his favourite place actually because he could be himself here. No problems, no killing, no complaints. Sometimes I can feel him here. And my gods are here.

\- Gods. – Sandor spat the word with contempt as if it were a curse.

Sansa looked at him frowning. She didn't like his tone but she didn't want to reprimand him. He has the right to have his own opinion, she thought, whether I like it or not.

\- Where are your gods, Ser?

Sandor looked back at her, his eyes were already boiling with anger and he looked really dangerous now.

\- I have no fucking gods.

\- Don't say this, please.

Sandor leaned closer to Sansa and she could even feel his hatred towards the gods on her skin. His sudden movement frightened her a little but the hatred in his eyes and on his face scared her so much more.

\- Why not? Where were my gods when I was burnt? – he rasped furiously.

Sansa saw such a deep pain and torture in his eyes now that she had never seen before but what she could understand perfectly. She wanted to jump up and wrap her arms around him, trying to soothe him, holding him as close as possible and even caressing his unkempt long hair and his whole face – it was something else that meant a totally new sensation for her. She had never felt such a tenderness for Sandor and it astonished her completely. But she didn't dare to allow herself such an intimacy with him and she was sure that he would have pushed her away from him and shouted some vulgarity at her as well.

A part of her suspicion proved to be true when Sandor suddenly turned around and left her there, walking so fast, with huge angry steps, that he disappeared among the woods within a few moments.

He must be terribly ashamed of himself for letting me see and hear his pain, she thought and she shivered a little, however this time he would not threaten to kill me if I told it to anyone because he must be sure that I would never do such a thing. Another thought made her shiver as well: she was so close to touch him and it could have given him another opportunity to laugh at and mock her. That was why she decided not to look for him that evening. She wondered if he would appear in the Dining Hall at dinner and she was about to ask Andrew to bring some hot soup, wine and roasted turkey to Ser Sandor when he entered the hall.

His dark face and murderous eyes did not promise anything good but Sansa acted as if she had seen nothing of that.

\- That is so kind of you, Ser Sandor, to join me at my dinner.

Sandor said nothing, was just about to sit down at the end of the table, when Sansa stood up and showed him the seat next to her.

\- Please, come and take this seat, this is the guest's place.


	8. Chapter Eight

Chapter 8.

Sansa could not imagine what was going on inside Sandor's head.

For two days since their encounter in the Godswood, he was behaving really cold to her. He greeted her when they met but he avoided her company and when they were having their meals together (that was the only occasion when he didn't avoid her), he did not reply to any of her questions and he did not even look at her.

Sansa pretended not to be hurt by his coldness and his impoliteness but she actually felt some kind of strange pain. She could understand that the last time they had been talking, she had touched a very sensitive topic but it could not have been the reason for him to behave with her that way, as if she had been invisible. If it is so hard for him to be with me, she wondered, why he keeps on eating with me? He could have his meals in his own room if he wanted to, she added with a little disappointment.

However, she did not have much time to think about her guest's behaviour.

One night a tired and rather muddy soldier was riding into Winterfell. He was not more than twenty years old, young, fierce and brave enough to shout at the warriors at the gate to let him in quicker before he freezes to death. It was almost midnight and most people were already sleeping still he insisted on talking to Lady Stark immediately.

Ser Thomas walked to the gate in the deep mud as quick as possible, hearing the excited voice of the stranger. He was a patient and calm man, but he felt that something bad had happened and he wanted to know about it as soon as possible. He did not want to wake Sansa up and he was trying to make the soldier tell him his news instead when Sandor Clegane entered the yard yawning.

\- What the hell is going on?

Ser Thomas looked annoyed at his presence but he tried to remain polite. He didn't like Clegane staying in Winterfell but he knew his Queen's wish well.

\- It is nothing serious, ser…

Sandor spat on the ground.

\- I am not a ser and there is fucking something if this girl wants to talk to Lady Stark so badly.

The young soldier looked at Sandor without a sound – he could recognise the Hound and he could also realise that he could have never defeated such a warrior but he was boiling with anger being called "girl".

Sandor looked at the soldier deeply.

\- So? Did the cat run away with your tongue?

The soldier grabbed his sword harder though he did not intend to attack anyone.

\- I must talk to Lady Stark and …

\- Lady Stark is sleeping… - Ser Thomas started to speak when Sansa appeared at the door.

She did not look sleepy at all – she was still wearing the blood red dress she had been wearing at the dinner, and she did not even touch her hairstyle since then. She was looking at the three men as the Goddess of War.

\- Well, I am not sleeping anymore. Come to the library, all of you, before you wake up the whole Winterfell.

None of the three men spoke – they all followed her in silence.

In the library there was warm, thanks to the well-tended fireplace and the two servant girls who took care of the fire and were now sleeping curling in the comfortable armchairs on both sides of the fireplace. One of them should have been always awake to pay attention on the fire but the wonderful warmth made them too sleepy.

When Sansa entered, both of the girls woke up immediately. Sansa asked their forgiveness and sent them to the kitchen for wine, bread and some chicken.

When all of the members of the little company were seated, she turned to the stranger.

\- Who are you?

The young man stood up and took a deep bow.

\- I am Bryan Longfellow, my Lady. I live in Deepwood Motte.

\- You have made a long journey then. Please sit down and let me know, what do you need to share with me in the middle of the night?

\- The Boltons, my Lady. – replied he after taking his seat again.

Sansa's eyebrows curled in surprise.

\- The Boltons? What do you mean?

\- They keep on attacking the villages, killing people, taking away their food and animals, everything. Then they burn the whole place down. – the more he spoke, the louder his voice became showing his anger.

Sansa leaned forward, grabbing her armchair.

\- How come I have never heard about it before?

Ser Thomas joined her in bigger anger.

\- And neither have I!

He leaned forward as well, while Sandor Clegane was sitting motionlessly like a stone statue, without any emotions on his face.

Bryan Longfellow shrugged his shoulder simply.

\- I don't know. All I know that they killed my parents three days ago and they set our house into fire.

\- How did you survive? – Sansa asked.

\- I was out in the woods hunting. When I returned, I found my home destroyed.

\- Then how do you know it was the Boltons?

\- They left one of their men there. He was dead, shot by an arrow. He was wearing the Boltons' coat of arms. I know that disgusting picture. I have always hated it. – the young man's face showed pure disgust. - And I met people while riding here. Those people were telling me the same, that the Boltons destroyed their places and killed their people. They saw them with their own eyes.

Sandor Clegane spoke slowly now.

\- That is why you have not heard about it.

Sansa looked at him curiously.

\- What do you mean?

Sandor was looking at her while explaining as he was talking to a child.

\- They are doing their nasty stuff on the edges, far from here. They know well that even if one person survives, he should make a long and dangerous journey to come to Winterfell and report their actions to you.

Ser Thomas had to agree.

\- Clegane is right, Lady Stark. The roads are still dangerous, especially in winter. This lad is terribly lucky to be able to survive the journey through the Wolves Wood.

Sansa stood up – the men followed.

\- It is time for you, Bryan, to have a hot bath and some warm meal in the northern guest room. Ser Thomas, please wake Frederick up and give him my orders. As the sun rises, I want all the commanders to come here to the library. We have a lot to do.

\- We can wake…

Sansa shook her head. Four hours of sleep won't stop the Boltons and she needed some time to gather her thoughts about the matter.

\- Let them sleep. Now please leave.

When Bryan Longfellow and Ser Thomas left the library, Sandor Clegane did not move. He was watching Sansa curiously who was staring at the flames as if she had been waiting for some good advice to appear among them.

\- I am going. – he said suddenly.

Sansa looked at him with a drowsy face as if she had been woken up from a dream.

\- Going? Where?

Sandor smirked softly.

\- To fight.

Sansa leaned back in her chair, turning completely towards him.

\- I thought you are tired of fighting.

Sandor shrugged carelessly.

\- I am. But now I must fight these Boltons before they do more damage.

Before they reach Winterfell, Sansa thought. She remembered her first husband well – he was long dead but his poisonous blood was running in so many people in his family. She knew well that they must be stopped immediately – and by stopping she meant death. After her own experience with the Boltons, she didn't believe in forgiveness and second chances anymore.

However, she didn't want Sandor to leave.

\- I don't think it is a good idea…

Sandor stood up and replied on a raspy voice.

\- Why? I am a damned fighter and I won't sit here with the old witches when there is a fight somewhere out there.

\- You are not that young anymore…

Sandor now stepped to Sansa and he was towering above her. He looked really angry with her, his eyes were expressing that clearly without saying a word, while the burnt part of his face looked even redder and darker.

\- Don't be so protective. I am fucking not old or dead yet. Shall I just stay here while other people are fighting? Shall I sit next to the fireplace knitting scarves for the children?

Sansa was not afraid of him as she was sure that he would never attack or beat her and she returned his furious glance with softness both in her voice and her eyes. She knew that he was still extremely strong and cunning, but she didn't want him to go away – even though he was probably one of the best warriors in Winterfell now.

\- I didn't say that…

\- It seemed to me anyway…

\- It was not my intention to hurt you or belittle your power…

Sandor cut her words with a sudden movement of his hand as if he had wanted to stop her. He had enough of the conversation and of being told what to do.

\- Fine. Then I'll leave this morning. Give me ten men, food and horses. – then he turned around and walked towards the door.

\- Ser Sandor. – her voice was so soft like a breeze.

Sandor stopped but he didn't turn back to look at her.

\- Lady Sansa?

\- Take care of yourself.

\- I will always do that. – he opened the door, then closed it behind him.


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter 9.

Early in the morning, before the sun actually rose, Sandor Clegane and sixty other warriors left Winterfell to fight and kill the Boltons. Sansa's command was clear: destroy the enemy completely and leave none of them alive.

Most of the soldiers were not really glad to leave the castle and the peaceful life behind but they knew well that they had to go. The Boltons were the only threat to the peace of the North and they had to be stopped as soon as possible. If there were any annoyed murmurs among the people, the Hound was the first to make them shut up, even though he didn't seem to have as much lust for killing as he used to. His glance was dark, he spent the time of waiting sharpening his sword with impatient movements, hard breathing and a couple of curses about the terribly cold weather of the North. Everyone tried to avoid getting closer to him or meeting his eyes.

Before Sansa arrived to bid farewell to them and wish them a quick and successful journey, Ser Thomas made a little speech in front of the people, getting ready to mount their horses. They were wearing their thickest clothes, thigh-length fur coats and leather boots, with their swords hanging on their belts, close at hand. The huge bags of food and water were fastened to the saddles. None of them expected a quick trip and that was why all of their faces were dark and slightly furious.

Ser Thomas was not happy either but he knew his duty very well and he tried to pour some common sense into his unwilling soldiers. He had spent most of his life fighting for the enemies of the North since he had been able to lift a sword and it was a little difficult for him to adapt to the peaceful life of Winterfell without battles but during the last weeks he felt that he was longing for a little rest. Sometimes he was dreaming about sitting in front of the fireplace and watching his grandsons and granddaughters play – although deep inside he suspected that he would be unable to sit still long.

\- I know that you all would prefer to stay in your bed and live the life we got used to during the last few months. I want the same. But let's make it clear: we have a task to do, something important that put our lives into risk and we cannot return to Winterfell as long as this problem is unsolved.

A young man with a boyish face asked on a hopeful voice:

\- What if the Boltons were not coming here?

Ser Thomas grinned.

\- Don't be stupid, Theo. They are coming for one reason. To grab the crown of the North and they will kill as many of us as possible.

\- It's not the first time they are trying to get Winterfell… - someone added.

Sandor Clegane murmured softly.

\- But it will be the last time.

Only a handful of people near him heard his words and they felt the frightening promise in his voice clearly.

A lamentable voice came from behind.

\- I don't want to go…

Now Sandor Clegane stepped forward and looked at the men scornfully. His face was the darkest of theirs all and his eyes reminded everyone of thunderbolt being ready to pour out on the world.

\- Stop this fucking whining. We will go and kill all the Boltons. Before that, none of us can sleep well at night.

\- You are not our leader… - the lamentable voice sounded less loudly.

Clegane smirked nastily.

\- I am not your leader, you are right. But it will be me who will crush your stupid head into pieces without a second of thinking if you dare to refuse to fight or try to leave the army without a permission.

No one said a word or complaint from that moment.

Sansa was listening to them, hiding behind the stone wall.

She was always wondering how men talk and behave when they are among themselves, without a female company, without forcing the compulsory courtesy and the sophisticated style of speech on themselves. She was not disappointed at all. What she especially fancied was Sandor's way of speech. If my arms consisted of such passionate, daring and wild men like him only, the Boltons would not even think about fighting against me, she thought.

From the place where she hid, she could see him clearly.

His badly burnt face, naughty smirk and rude, ruthless voice was frightening, his unusually tall and muscular figure with his huge sword in his big hand was not less scary – still she felt such kind of strong attraction to him that shocked and frightened her even more than his appearance.

When she was a young girl, she used to be scared of him from the very first moment when she saw him. His astonishing physical appearance, his injuries and his rough, merciless manners always made her scared and uncomfortable after being brought up as a pampered princess, but deep inside she knew that he was someone she could always rely on, especially after her father was murdered. He was always beside me, trying to take care of me and I never thought about his reasons, she wondered, and now it is my task to take care of him without making him aware of my own reasons. She suspected that he was in love with her and she understood why he never talked about his emotions to her. I would also never tell him about my own feelings for him, she smiled weakly, feeling excited because of her discoveries, love is something that will remain unsolved between us.

She was shivering under her fur coat and she knew that it was not only because of the cold. She left her hiding place and said a short farewell to her people, exchanged a quick, meaningful glance with Sandor Clegane who bowed to her before turning his horse and following the others through the gate.

A whole week passed when the first news arrived.

Ser Thomas wrote a short letter in which he told Sansa that they had been through a couple of smaller battles and that three of his men got slightly injured, but "everyone is ready to keep on fighting."

Sansa was glad to hear these news although it didn't stop her from speeding up the reconstruction works in and around Winterfell. She expected her little army to defeat the family of betrayals, the Boltons, but she was not that careless to just sit, lay back and wait without doing anything. The people working at the building sites didn't complain in her presence, but she often praised them and encouraged them to finish repairing the walls as quickly as possible because "Winter is here and our enemies are always awake. Their number may decrease but as long as Winterfell is standing and the North is powerful, there will always be people like the Boltons who want more of us".

Eight days later another message came, reporting that during the last battle, they managed to kill all of the men wearing the Boltons' coat of arms, however their leader, Donald Bolton and at least a dozen of his closest soldiers could escape.

\- Coward bastards! – Sansa spat the words finishing the letter.

Ser Thomas revealed that he had lost dozen of his warriors and there had been also a couple of injured men as well but he tried to reassure her that despite the different kinds of difficulties they would keep on looking for and capture the enemy. He knew well that he had better not to hide anything from Lady Stark because she had become a ruthless queen who always wanted to hear the truth.

Sansa wondered how much and what Sandor Clegane had to say to be able to convince her army to continue fighting.

She wished she could have called her little army back but she knew that there would be no peace until the last Bolton was dead. During those days sometimes she dreamt of Ramsay Bolton, his unbelievable cruelty and the horrible months of their marriage again and she woke up crying. She knew that he would be unable to touch her anymore and now she was feeling fear not for herself but for her warriors fighting out there. She prayed every night that all of her remaining people could return home safe and sound.

The days passed more and more slowly. Sansa was waiting for news impatiently but as the days went by, she felt more anxiety and distress inside. When someone rode through the gate, she wondered with a growing stomach-ache and nausea if that person was a messenger and what kind of news he was carrying.

The next letter came fifteen days later and it told Sansa that they were still looking for Donald Bolton. They were searching for every little village and town carefully and thoroughly, every little cave, hut and forest was searched through with the greatest care, but still they were unable to locate him so far. The people on those areas were too afraid to tell them if they had seen any Boltons or the Boltons were so clever to travel at night and hide during the daytime.

Sansa prayed more than ever. She spent her mornings and nights in the Godswood, praying for her army, thinking of each of them. When she was not in the sacred wood, she spent her time on finishing the reconstruction works on the castle, taking care of her people, listening to the daily reports coming from every part of her kingdom.

She was thinking of Sandor Clegane as well – more than ever.

She missed him.

She couldn't tell what she was actually missing but when she looked at his empty chair during mealtime or the empty guest room where he used to spend his nights, she felt some kind of sadness. She wanted to see him and hear his voice so badly that it hurt. I wish he were here with me, grabbing me as he did in King's Landing when he saved me from being raped, she thought, but now I wish he wouldn't throw me up on his shoulders but pulling me close to his chest. She blushed discovering her physical desire for him and she tried to hush those thoughts away. What a shame, she scolded herself, he is out there fighting for my kingdom while I am daydreaming of him taking me into his arms like a stupid girl. Deep inside she admitted to herself that something was growing on inside her soul and heart that could not be denied anymore. It was so easy to behave like an ice queen when he was so close to me, she thought, but now, when he is so far away, fighting and living in danger, in an unknown distance and until an unknown future, she couldn't pretend to remain calm and cold anymore. Even if he cannot be mine, I need him beside me as long as I am alive, she added bitterly.

The last letter arrived two weeks later and it spoke about an unbelievable success: Donald Bolton was dead. Ser Thomas did not feel it important to tell that it was Sandor Clegane who caught the Boltons' leader and cut him almost into two parts with his tremendous sword while shouting and cursing as wildly as a wild bear. However, he told Sansa that three of the Stark warriors died as well, one of them lost his left leg, another became blind and but all the remaining ones were about to return to Winterfell.

Sansa was crying and laughing reading the news and she hurried to the Godswood to say her thanksgiving prayers.

It seemed to be forever when Ser Thomas sent a messenger forward, a young village boy, with only a simple sentence, that they would arrive Winterfell by the following evening.

Sansa became so nervous and excited that she was unable to eat or drink that day. She ordered the cooks to start preparing several litres of meat soup and dozens of roast chickens, peeling a mountain of potatoes, while the maids and other servants were getting ready to arrange comfortable, warm rooms and hot baths for the homecoming heroes. A large room on the ground floor, closest to the flower garden was being set up as a small hospital – Sansa suspected that there had been more injuries than Ser Thomas wanted to admit.

Since six o'clock Sansa was standing at the gate, waiting for her people to return. Her heart was beating wildly in her throat.


	10. Chapter Ten

Chapter 10.

It was almost dark when the first soldiers appeared in the background. Most of them were sitting in their saddle, with their chest bending above their four-legged companions as if they had already been sleeping. Even the horses seemed to be exhausted, ambling slowly, and there was no joyful singing about victory and homecoming from the members of the small army.

Sansa stood there, impatiently, greeting each of them with a soft blessing, while counting them one by one. As the minutes and the people were passing in front of her, she became more and more nervous, the cold night was holding her and her throat tighter than before, despite the thick fur coats and skirts, and her impatience was torturing her like a strong stomach-ache. Somehow deep inside her heart, she felt that something was wrong but she tried hard to push those bad feelings away because she didn't want to lose her faith or her calmness in front of others.

When the last man and his horse entered the gate, she sighed sadly: they had lost sixteen men, three of them were old, experienced warriors, who had fought beside her father. And at the same moment she felt like being struck: Sandor Clegane was not among the returning people!

\- Ser Thomas! – she cried, looking around.

The man had already jumped off his horse and he was giving orders to the boys how to feed and wash the horses carefully, but now he hurried to her. He was one of the three men who were sitting on their horse, with their back straight, as if they had been attending a royal ceremony. He was dead tired but his service to his Queen was almost the first.

\- Lady Stark!

Sansa tried to stay calm and not to show her growing anxiety.

Ser Thomas was her closest friend, they had known each other for such a long time, they had fought together and they had shared many secrets, but she didn't want him to know about her emotions for Sandor. It was something she didn't want to share with anyone, not even with her sister and she was sure that he would have disapproved her choice – not if she had cared much about it.

\- Did Sandor Clegane die?

He looked at her totally surprised and puzzled.

\- The Hound? I do not think so.

He didn't want to add that even the Death would find it quite troublesome if he tried to kill the Hound. He must be almost in his early fifties but he still fights and rides like a demon and he is still fuelled by amazing amount of hatred and madness I had never seen in anyone else, Ser Thomas thought.

Sansa returned his glance with more curiosity and demand.

\- Then where is he?

He shook his head cluelessly.

\- I really have no idea, my Lady. He was on the back of the army when we left for Winterfell but to tell the truth, I didn't give much attention on him since then.

\- Are you sure that he was there?

\- Totally sure.

\- Then why isn't he here now?

Ser Thomas took a small bow as a sigh of apology.

\- I am sorry, Lady Stark, but I don't know. I think I still saw him after our departure, when we first stopped for a short rest by the river, but I am not sure now. I wasn't paying attention on him – I had enough things to do.

Sansa felt as if an icy hand had grabbed her breath.

\- Who buried our dead?

\- It was me and the Huggle boys.

\- Didn't you happen to find his body?

Ser Thomas shook his head with determination.

\- We searched through the field carefully and we counted our people. The number was full before we left for home. I saw him alive. I saw him at the end of the row when we left for Winterfell. That is all I know for sure. I am sorry to disappoint you, Lady Stark, but I really have no idea where the Hound is now. Maybe he has just left forever. It would be a great idea.

Sansa didn't reply to these sarcastic remarks.

\- So there was no fight during your way back home.

Ser Thomas tried hard to hide his annoyance. Most of the times he was a really calm man, but now he felt he was getting annoyed. He didn't understand why the Hound was so important for her and why he was still the topic of their conversation.

\- No, my lady, no more fights. Our enemies have gone, at least for a while. We had a long but a completely peaceful journey back to Winterfell.

Sansa left him without a sound and walked back to the kitchen. She checked carefully that enough hot dishes and wine were available for the soldiers, she ordered to check on the fires every half an hour then she went to her room.

She was sitting in the window, staring at the gate, still hiding deep into her fur coat. Even though the happily cracking fire, she was shivering.

Where was Sandor? Where could he have been? Ser Thomas was sure that he was alive and he was with the rest of the company after the battle finished. Then why didn't he return to Winterfell? He seemed to enjoy his time here, she remembered, he didn't have to fight but he had things to do, so he could feel himself useful here. As the moments passed by, she became sadder and more nervous. She didn't blame Ser Thomas for not paying enough attention on Sandor, but she wanted answers.

It was almost two o' clock after midnight, when suddenly the gate opened with a loud whining sound and a huge figure rode in. When Sansa saw him, she knew exactly who it was and she ran out of her room as quickly as she could, down to the yard, without thinking. Her heart was beating in her throat so loudly and strongly that she was feeling suffocating.

\- Where have you been? – she shouted at Sandor while hurrying to him along the corridor, down the staircase. This time she didn't much care about caution and secrets, and about not waking her people up.

Sandor Clegane jumped off his horse with a big grin on his dark, dirty face. He smoothed his trousers carefully, then looked down at her completely calmly.

\- Were you worried about me, little bird?

Sansa tried hard to catch her breath and finally to behave as a queen and not as a worried little girl. She stood straight and elegantly, trying to arrange her features into a relaxed expression though she knew well how useless it was.

\- I was. Where have you been?

He seemed to be extremely amused by her questions, her breathless voice, all the little things that revealed her true emotions - his grin became wider.

\- Do you think you are my wife or what the hell?

Now Sansa lost her patience and for a moment she didn't care about keeping her secret or her queenlike behaviour. She stepped closer to him and slapped his upper arm angrily.

\- Should I be your wife in order to have the permission to worry about you?

Sandor looked at her with dark eyes and a kind of threat both in his voice and in his glance on her. The cheerful grin disappeared and he seemed to have turned into a completely different man.

\- Calm down, woman, before I slap you.

Sansa wanted to reply with a „try it if you dare" but her courteousness won over her fury. Somehow his dark glance cooled her down. She put her hands behind her back and bowed her head a little.

\- I am sorry for slapping you, ser.

Saying sorry was quite far from him now. His expression did not become smoother, neither did his raspy voice.

\- I am not a ser.

Sansa couldn't enjoy his homecoming completely because she could see how angry he had just become and she worried a little about revealing her emotions for him away. He mustn't know about how I feel for him, she thought, while wondering how she could make him calm down.

\- May I ask where you have been? I was worried about you, I was afraid that you had fallen into a trap of the Boltons or got injured.

Sandor's voice sounded merciless and cool – his eyes on her expressed the same coldness. Now he didn't seem to be that man who had been in love with her.

\- None of these happened. The Boltons are dead, just as their supporters. Your kingdom is free from this shit. I simply wanted to ride a little, to clear my head, to be away from people and noise. I am a free man, not a fucking slave, as far as I know.

Watching him, sadness and disappointment were hiding on her lips and they were slightly suffocating her.

It must have happened another way, she thought, but it is my fault that I had imagined him come home, feel happy to see me, hold me in his arms, kiss me with the passion he fights and curses, and all the romantic stupid ideas that we used to read and sing about when we were young girls. She felt herself really stupid this time, both because of her high hopes and her behaviour.

\- Of course you are a free man, you are not mistaken. I am really glad to hear that you have not injured in the battle.

Sandor laughed loudly for a moment but there was no mirth in that laugh.

\- Those were only a bunch of stupid rats, nothing serious.

\- They were dangerous.

\- Maybe for little girls but not for me.

Sansa felt that it was useless to stay any longer and that at the same time it was completely impolite to keep such an exhausted man out in the snow, who must have been very cold and hungry as well – especially not ignoring the fact that he did not want to be with her.

\- I am sorry for keeping you awake. Good night, Ser Sandor. – she said coolly, but tenderly, trying to hide her emotions.

She knew that it was quite bad-mannered not to wait for his answer but she had enough of herself and her romantic ideas. She hurried back into her room quickly, with as much elegance as possible, while Sandor Clegane was still standing there, following her with his dark eyes, and when she was out of reach, he said softly:

\- Good night, Lady Stark.

That familiar nasty grin reappeared on his face.


	11. Chapter Eleven

Chapter 11.

Life returned to its usual pattern – except the fact that Sansa and Sandor spent less time together than before.

They met only at mealtime and when they happened to bump into each other inside or outside the castle. The reparations on the walls and on the buildings were finished a few weeks after the little army had arrived home, but somehow Sandor found some physical work to do or he went out riding therefore he spent only little time inside the castle eating or sleeping. Sansa didn't feel like checking him and she made herself busy with reading and discussing the future of the North with her closest people. She was sure that Sandor must have known about the meetings but he didn't show any signs to have the intention to join and she found it uncomfortable to ask him to. Her companions didn't feel like asking him either.

Sansa had her usual things to do, but she spent most of her evenings in Godswood. That was the only place where no one disturbed her and she needed its peace badly, because she wanted to be alone. Now that her little army, and Sandor Clegane returned to Winterfell, she finally regained her inner peace but still she had other kinds of thoughts to care about and wonder.

She could be completely alone in Godswood. Not even her closest friends or her servants would dare to go there – everyone knew what an incredibly sacred place it meant to her. It was an unspoken rule that if she happened to be needed urgently, her father's hunting horn would be blown whose long deep voice would reach her and she would know immediately that she should hurry back to the castle but not a single soul was allowed to approach the place.

Despite that everyone knew the rule, sometimes Sansa felt as if someone had been hiding among the trees, watching her, listening to her praying, although no one came forward to betray their presence and she didn't manage to glance anyone around.

She knew she was not mistaken – her senses had been sharpened during the cruel years that she had spent by Ramsay's side, trying to discover his whereabouts near herself before he could have surprised her.

She hoped that it would be Sandor himself hiding silently among the trees, but she tried not to bring herself into false hopes again. He would be the only one who would dare to come here, she thought with a naughty smile, as he hates rules and everything that is against his will.

They spoke so little and she felt that they avoided each other with intention. I am afraid of his refusal while he simply doesn't want to be with me, she thought bitterly. Sometimes she wondered why he didn't leave Winterfell – by fighting for and defending the Queen of the North and her people successfully, some lords could have been happy to have him inside their armies.

Two months passed in this fashion when one night, when it was especially cold, almost full moon, Sansa could be assured that she was not the only one human being in Godswood. She had just finished her prayers and pulling the thick furs closer on her body, she was wondering among her tender thoughts, when suddenly Sandor Clegane appeared out of nowhere.

He didn't say a word, and she didn't greet him that time. She was watching him curiously, her heart was beating wildly in her throat but she wanted him to talk first and explain his presence.

Sandor walked closer to her slowly as if he had been exhausted, then he sat down just three steps away from her. She could smell his scent, a familiar mixture of smoke and beer and she could hear him breathing heavily. His face was completely emotionless and for a while he seemed to stay silent.

They were sitting in silence at least for quarter of an hour, when unexpectedly Sandor started to speak.

\- I remember little. I remember fighting with Gregor and I remember falling. The force of the wind on my face. Then darkness. Complete darkness I had never seen before. Then I woke up somewhere that smelled of flowers and pine trees. I saw Beric.

Now Sansa understood what he was talking about. She remembered asking him what had happened to him in King's Landing and how he had survived falling from the tower into the fire. Now he seemed to think that it was the right time to give an answer to her and to tell his story.

She said softly:

\- You mean Beric Dondarrion, the Lightning Lord?

Sandor nodded.

\- Right.

Sansa wanted to say "You could not see him because he was dead for a long time and you should know that the best" but she kept her mouth shut because she didn't want to behave impolite and she didn't want to cut into his memories when he was finally ready to open up. She had wanted to hear his incredible story since she saw him standing on the yard of Winterfell.

Sandor smirked at her a little wildly, but without any anger.

\- I know what you are thinking. That he is dead. I know that because I saw him die. But that man in the hut looked like him. Not only the physical things, but also the way he breathed and how he was always looking at me.

Sansa listened. She knew the story of the two men's rivalry and how long they had been enemies before they had to fight side by side.

\- There was something so characteristic in his eyes. Mistrust and some kind of pride he always had. – he kept a little pause as if he had wanted to dig deeper into his memories. - He did not say a single word. He was just rubbing some kind of balm into my skin, all over my body. Something smelly, filled with mint. Every morning and every night like a painful routine. And I heard him whispering prayers, even though I didn't understand a single word, he spoke an unknown language. – he paused again while Sansa was listening to him breathlessly. - There was always a fire inside the hut. I still remember the heat and the colour of the flames.

He listened for a few seconds again. His facial features were still emotionless although Sansa knew very well how terribly he was always afraid of fire and flames. Now she could see no sign of fear or disgust and she found it interesting. Maybe had he managed to defeat that fear in that mysterious hut?

Sandor spoke again. His voice sounded stronger.

\- One day I woke up and the hut was empty. There was no fire and I heard the birds twittering outside. I could get up and I left immediately.

Sansa dared to ask now.

\- Why didn't you wait for him to return?

Sandor shrugged his left shoulder.

\- I felt it would be useless.

\- Did you feel it?

\- I cannot explain it, woman. – there was some annoyance in his raspy voice. - I felt that he had left and he hadn't intended to return. He had even put out the fire that he had been taking care of. He had fulfilled actually what he had wanted: I was alive, I could breathe and move again.

They were sitting in silence for a while until Sansa needed to ask another question:

\- Have you ever thought about what could have happened?

Sandor looked at her deeply, resting his arms on his knees. The usual mocking grin was shining on his lips, but his eyes seemed dark and serious.

\- That R'hllor, the Lord of Light brought me back? In the form of Beric? For a special purpose that is known only by him?

Sansa nodded although she was getting ready for a verbal attack from him.

Religion was another topic that made them so different from each other and that made so many conversations and situations complicated. She believed in the gods of her family whose traditions dated back hundreds of years ago – Sandor believed in himself, in his sword and in bloody violence.

\- I have no idea…

\- Neither have I. But let me be the one who asks you a question this time. Do you believe in R'hllor, Lady Stark? – he grimaced, watching her attentively. – Though it would be such a blasphemy to admit it here, in the sacred wood of your old gods.

Sansa was smiling at him tenderly and she didn't intend to react to his provocative remarks. She enjoyed finally being and having a conversation with him again, a fairly interesting one and she didn't want to ruin the possibility she was just given.

\- I know almost nothing about the Lord of Light, I know only the stories of the Red Woman and Ser Beric. – she knew that it was an evasive answer that Sandor would disapprove, but she couldn't find out and tell a lie.

Sandor became really serious now.

\- They had power, I saw it. Beric could return from death many times. The Red Woman ruled over men, saw the past and the future, she knew magical potions and spoke the language of fire.

Sansa nodded carefully, wishing he would be telling more about his experiences. She heard some stories as well, about the Red Woman's magical prophecies and practices, about Beric's returning from the Death and his incredible transformations, but somehow she felt that further questions would annoy Sandor so much that he would not tell her more about it.

\- Then possibly it was R'hllor, one of his priests.

Sandor gave out a mocking laugh.

\- Don't you find him to be a threat against your gods?

He didn't seem to be quite talkative about his own ideas and opinion – he proved to be more curious of hers.

Sansa was keeping her eyes on him vigilantly. She knew that she could not ask more and that she could not avoid all of his questions if she wanted to keep the conversation on. She didn't want to tell a lie but she had to choose her words carefully.

\- Everyone has their own right to have their own gods, to choose them or to be chosen by them. I can accept it.

Sansa did not say out loud that sometimes she did not even believe in gods at all. She looked up at the night sky and she could feel how the buried anger and hopelessness were coming out of her soul, strangling her throat. Her eyes were wondering now among the branches of the trees in front of her.

If there were any gods, she thought, my father, my mother, my brothers, Robb and Rickon, Master Luwin and all those great men and women I have ever known – they would be still alive, living happily, spending their life in Winterfell and not under the layers of earth, eaten by wolves, worms or birds. If there were any gods, she added with enraging bitterness, I would have never been raped by Ramsay Bolton and Queen Cercei could have never played her games on me or on anyone else. If there were any gods, Ramsay and Cercei would have never been born at all.

Sandor was watching her closely, with the mocking smile still on his lips.

\- You have been disappointed and left by your gods so many times. Doesn't it disturb you at all?

Now Sansa looked at him again. Her dark glance and a tiny contemptuous smile on her lips surprised Sandor a little but he didn't show it.

\- People have disappointed and left me as well, just as my gods, still I am ready to give a second chance. To most of them at least.

Sandor was smirking.

\- You are too generous, I must say. It is something you haven't managed to get rid of, as far as I can see.

Sansa's smile remained scornful but her eyes shone playfully. Sandor Clegane didn't need a second chance from her because he had never given her any reasons for disappointment, he had never left her in the lurch and he had always found a way to rescue her. Except when he talked to her as if he had considered her to be a stupid, spoiled princess…

\- You mean naïve, Ser Sandor.

He shrugged his shoulder carelessly as if he were bored with the conversation. Sansa suspected that he hadn't intended to talk so much about himself.

\- If you fancy that, let's say that. You have always been like a child, with your fancy ideals and romantic bullshit.

\- Sometimes I wish I had a heart of stone like you – Sansa stood up suddenly and walked beside Sandor, back to the castle - but not everyone is allowed to be so lucky, no matter how easier it could be. Good night.

She walked faster than she preferred to, half hoping that Sandor would not follow her or catch her.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Chapter 12.

Sandor Clegane did not follow or catch her that night. Instead of getting close to her, as she actually wished for, he chose to stay away from her. At least he seemed to for a couple of days, then suddenly he turned up in Godswood again.

Sansa knew that he was hiding there among the trees. She could not see him but she could feel his presence and his eyes on herself. They never met face to face although their strange encounters made her kind of happy as he was still looking for her company, while deep inside she was really disappointed because of his stubbornness.

She was trying to justify his behaviour and somehow she understood the masquerade of his coldness still she wanted him to get over it and show her his love for her – because she was so sure that he loved her and that there was so much tenderness under that thick rough skin of his.

She didn't know if her love for him was larger or smaller than his towards her, but she knew that she was unable to handle her yearning for him as perfectly well as he could handle his own desire. He had been doing that for such a long time while she discovered her own feelings for only a short period. She was brought up as an aristocratic princess but the passion inside her appeared to be stronger than her education sometimes.

Days and weeks passed.

Sansa had a lot to do, she was always busy dealing with the matters and problems of her kingdom, while Sandor had his freedom to do what he wanted and when he wanted and he didn't have many responsibilities unlike her. They met eye to eye only at mealtimes when they were sitting and having their meals in the company of dozens of other people, the most reliable men of the North living in or near Winterfell. There were always a few men sitting or standing between them but Sansa knew and felt that Sandor Clegane did not take his eyes off her and devoted his whole attention to her. He was watching her eating, drinking, talking, laughing or smiling, listening to her talking and making decisions. Even though he hardly spoke to anyone, she felt that he paid close attention to everyone and everything in the room and he was still a significant part of all the conversations.

She wished he would make a step and try to get closer to her again but she also knew that he was not that kind of man, not a man of emotions. Sandor would fight for her anytime, he would sacrifice his life and die for her, without a moment of thinking, but he would never stand in front of her confessing his love for her openly. She suspected that that he held her too high in rank in comparison with himself and that would also stop him from trying to gain her heart. He is so merciless and brave in almost everything, except when it is about his emotions for me, she was thinking bitterly. She did not care about how small or how big the difference between their social status was – she would have dared to approach him if she had not had that lack of confidence in his courage to take her.

She was tired of waiting for his confession but she tried to regain her patience.

She had a kingdom to rule, a whole nation of Northern people to take care of and defend, and she could not allow herself to be ruled by passion for a man when she needed a clear head every day. Still she was a woman, a person who wanted to be loved by someone she loved and craved for, and she wished to share her days and nights with that special someone. It was so hard to stay patient and calm, but she managed to because she really had to, to keep her authority and power as the queen of the North.

One evening, after a long discussion about a possible tour around the kingdom, when she would visit all the villages and towns in the North, meeting and listening to the people of lower ranks, their thoughts, problems and wishes, Sansa asked Ser Thomas to call Sandor into the Throne Hall. She remained sitting on her throne, waiting, acting as if she had been completely relaxed, while Ser Thomas left the room, with a strange and curious expression on his face.

When she was left alone, she adjusted her clothes quickly and checked her hair as well. She breathed deeply, filled with excitement and anxiety. It was so long when she last met and talked to him face to face and she had no idea how he would behave now. He was avoiding her all the time, never looking for an opportunity to talk to her, and she lost her patience. I must see and talk to him right now, she thought, I must look into his eyes to see something meaningful, to see if he misses me or not. She felt a little childish but she wanted her appetite to be satisfied.

Only a few minutes later, Ser Thomas and Sandor Clegane returned. Ser Thomas stayed close to the door as if he had been watching over them like a guard, while Sandor was approaching Sansa.

He did not take his eyes off her while moving towards the centre of the room. He stopped only six steps away from her, in front of her throne, and took a small bow. He looked totally calm and uninterested, and he didn't seem to wonder why he had to appear so suddenly.

\- Lady Sansa.

She smiled at him softly, partly to show him some kindness and courtesy, and partly to soothe herself. His rough appearance, his dark eyes and his deep voice made her heart jump and dance with anticipation.

\- Ser Sandor, thank you for joining us.

Sandor did not feel like pretending to be a courtier. He shook his shoulder negligently and rested his right hand on his belt where his sword would have been hanging. He had stopped wearing a sword in Winterfell in the last few weeks.

\- I had no other choice, I guess.

Sansa stood up to make the distance between them shorter meanwhile she hoped that her legs would not tremble and bring her into trouble.

\- I would like to express my gratitude. I should have done it much earlier but there were always things to do… - she became embarrassed and cut the sentence off to start another one. – Ser Sandor, you have fought for my kingdom as a lion although this is not your homeland.

Sandor did not appear to be more interested. He groaned simply.

\- I did my job.

\- Your job?

He smirked at her wildly, showing his teeth.

\- Killing people. As I always did.

Sansa took a deep breathe.

\- I would like to give you a piece of land…

Now Sandor showed some emotions: anger, clearly expressed in his deepening groan and in his eyes.

\- I don't need any land.

Ser Thomas did not like the way their conversation seemed to be turning into and he chose to intervene.

\- You may listen to Lady Stark…

Sandor ignored him completely and his voice betrayed his growing annoyance.

\- I don't need fucking gifts. I am not a homeless beggar or something. Anyway, I have my own land.

Sansa looked at him with utter surprise. What was he talking about?

\- Do you?

\- Well, who do you think inherited the Clegane Hall and its territories after my beloved brother's tragic death? – Sandor was grinning at her with contempt - Let me help you: it was me.

Sansa felt completely stupid now. How could she have forgotten about Ser Gregor and the ill-famous Clegane Hall?

Ser Thomas seemed to be unable to keep his mouth closed. His voice and choice of words talked books about his displeasure and fury. He hated to see Sandor Clegane in Winterfell, no matter what he had done for the Stark sisters and for the kingdom.

He was not that blind and he noticed how Sandor was watching Lady Stark and how she was staring at him. He knew that Sandor had been crazy for her since she put her feet into King's Landing for the first time and he was sure that she fell in love with him during the last months since his sudden return to Winterfell. Despite all her efforts, he could see a significant change in her manners and behaviour, especially it was about Sandor.

\- Then why don't you return there, and rule over your little kingdom? – one could have tasted Ser Thomas's contempt for Sandor.

Sansa lifted her brow curiously that meant a kind of command that Ser Thomas understood immediately and he swallowed his other questions.

\- Ser Thomas…

Sandor shrugged with a dark smile on his face.

\- That is okay, Lady Stark, let him talk.

Sansa seemed to be a little annoyed with Ser Thomas and his behaviour, but Sandor enjoyed the situation and turned his head a little to look into Ser Thomas's eyes while answering slowly:

\- I have someone there, an old relative of my family. He keeps things right and it is great, because I don't want to have any connection with that bloody land.

Ser Thomas was getting more and more irritated and furious as he was watching Sansa. She behaved like a real lady, a real queen, she spoke only a few words, but her eyes, her glances on Sandor spoke so much more. Those dreamy eyes talked about expectation, tenderness, admiration, longing, and love. Isn't she completely aware of the way she is looking at him, he wondered.

\- So you don't plan to leave Winterfall and continue your life as a landlord? Do you prefer being a servant here?

Now the tenderness disappeared from Sansa's eyes and face – she looked really furious and frightening.

\- Ser Thomas, we have clarified that Ser Sandor is a welcomed friend at Winterfall and he was never a servant.

Ser Thomas wished he had stayed away from the room or he had been able to keep his mouth shut. I should leave as soon as possible, he decided.

\- Let me apologise for him, my lady.

\- Fuck your apologies. – Sandor spat out the words like a curse, and left the hall, without even looking at Ser Thomas. He seemed to be angry but the naughty shining of his eyes showed how much he actually enjoyed annoying and teasing Ser Thomas.

A long silence fell on the room.

Sansa was watching Ser Thomas with a huge displeasure. She remained motionless on her throne, but her eyes and her curling lips told everything.

\- Dear Ser Thomas, would you be so kind to explain to me what was all this? I always considered you as the person with the largest patience and self-discipline. However, I haven't seen much of those in the last few minutes.

Ser Thomas took a deep bow.

\- I am really sorry, my lady, but I cannot have any trust for Sandor…

Sansa was looking away, into the centre of the flames of the fireplace.

\- You may not, but my family and I do trust him. I don't want to remind you any more how much debt my sister and I have for him. Ser Sandor saved our lives and that is more than anyone has ever done for us. I thought that I was completely clear the last time I talked about it.

\- I am sorry…

Sansa smiled at her old friend softly but her eyes were a kind of warning to him whispering that he should be more careful.

\- Please leave and think about your words. I don't want enemies in Winterfell. You don't have to love Ser Sandor but you are expected to show him respect and basic courtesy.

When Ser Thomas left the room, slightly shaking with anger, he was completely sure: Lady Sansa was in love with that damned Clegane. This thing must be stopped, he thought.


End file.
